Christmas Sherry
by altenprano
Summary: With Anna in prison, Mrs. Hughes is having a difficult time feeling the Christmas spirit, so Mr. Carson tries to cheer her up.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Merry Christmas! **

**I was very inspired by the sneak peak at the Downton Abbey Christmas Special to write some lovely Chelsie, because there's nothing like a glass of sherry to brighten up a dreary Christmas in Yorkshire. **

**Disclaimer: I do not own _Downton Abbey_**

**Enjoy and Merry Christmas~**

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_That's the last of them, _Elsie thought as she shooed the last of the maids up to bed, before the evening's festivities could get too out of hand, a relieved sigh escaping her as the last of them rounded the corner before proceeding onto the next flight of stairs.

In the years prior, that had always been Anna's job, seeing as she was head housemaid (or at least she had been, until she'd been promoted to lady's maid) but tonight, it fell to the housekeeper to handle the young women in her care. Elsie wished it was for a good reason, such as Anna and Mr. Bates spending Christmas Eve together back at the cottage, but that didn't seem to be God's plan, did it? Instead, Anna was sitting in prison, cold, alone, and no doubt afraid, while her husband sat as still as a statue in the chair by the fire, clearly trying to have a good time (Elsie doubted how hard the man was actually trying, though she knew better to say anything on the subject), but disheartened nonetheless by his wife's absence.

_Dear God, I know I've asked you for many things over the years, but please deliver Anna home to us. She's innocent, and I know You see her innocence, and You see what the poor girl has endured in the past years. Please bring her home to us, if not to us, then bring her home to Mr. Bates. Amen. _

It was the same prayer that she'd said at the church service earlier that evening, the same prayer she'd said before bed and over supper every night, and the same prayer she'd given voice to at church on Sundays. Surely God had heard her, all her incessant pleading for Anna's return. Why didn't he answer? Whatever happened to "ask and you shall receive?"

"Mrs. Hughes, are you alright?"

Mr. Carson's voice broke through the buzz of worries that filled her thoughts, a steady baritone that reverberated throughout her body as if it had been struck on a drum. In the days since Anna's arrest, it had always been Mr. Carson who had kept her steady, whether he knew it or not, and for that, she was beyond thankful.

"I'm fine," she assured the butler, the words coming as easily as if they were the truth and not a lie she'd learned to speak around until it sounded true. "I'm just tired, that's all." Now that wasn't a lie, not after nearly two hours of revelry to top off an already-hectic week.

"Would you care for a glass of sherry before bed?"

Oh, he knew her too well, he did, to extend an invitation she would only refuse if she truly had to, and with her charges sent up for the night, Elsie didn't have any excuses to make that would deter the butler.

Turning to face him, she nodded. "Very well. Will Beryl-sorry. Will Mrs. Patmore be joining us?" she asked, feeling heat flood her cheeks at her mistake.

She and the cook had been the best of friends since the days when Elsie'd been second housemaid and Beryl had been assistant cook to her predecessor, that the now-housekeeper still thought of the other woman by her first name, not the designation that her new position demanded. It wasn't often that she slipped like she had just then, and especially not in front of Mr. Carson, who'd called Elsie "Mrs. Hughes" without fail since her first day as housekeeper.

Mr. Carson's brows knit together in momentary confusion before he realized what'd been said, at which point his expression softened into one Elsie dared to describe as being amused (if only slightly). "It's quite alright," he said, offering his arm to her, as if he saw some frailty in the housekeeper's bearing (_I should hope not! _Elsie thought, taking his arm. _I'm as fit as a fiddle, and he knows it!_) "But no, Mrs. Patmore won't be joining us. She and Daisy went up early- something about going to Mr. Mason's farm in the morning."

"I did tell her she could go, yes," she said, recalling how Daisy had appeared in her sitting room a few minutes before dinner was set to go up and asked if she could visit her father-in-law in the morning, and if Mrs. Patmore could go with her. Naturally, she'd agreed, not seeing any harm in it, though if Mr. Carson objected… "Should I have told them otherwise?"

He shook his head. "No no, not at all." He closed the door to his pantry behind her, the sound of the knob turning back barely audible, even in the silence that had finally graced the downstairs with its presence.

She gave him a tight nod and sat in the wicker chair that she'd adopted as her own, at least whenever the two of them were together, which these days wasn't horribly often, a fact that made her...sad, in a way, or at least, that's what she thought of it as being. "Disappointed" implied she expected something of it, which she didn't; she didn't have the right to expect anything of Mr. Carson, as lovers expect the company of another.

"Did you enjoy the festivities?" Mr. Carson asked, handing her a small glass of sherry before settling himself in the chair opposite her with a glass of his own.

"I suppose so," she answered, a defeated sigh following her words. It had been hard to find joy in a scene where Anna was missing, almost as much as it had been difficult to do the same the Christmas after William died.

"You suppose so?" An eyebrow twitched upward, as if to emphasize his skepticism. "Mrs. Hughes, are you quite sure you're alright?"

She pressed her lips together, and glanced away from him for a moment, collecting herself. _Come on Elsie. He's about as terrifying as...as...well not as terrifying as Mr. Molesley or Inspector Vyner...Definitely not as terrifying as the Inspector, though why you let him bully you around is nonsense. Honesty's the best policy, remember? _

"Alright, I suppose I am a bit...lacking in holiday spirit this year," she admitted, meeting his eyes with the reluctance of a schoolboy who knows he's in for a thrashing. _There you go. I said it. _

"We all miss Anna," he said, setting down his glass and extending a hand towards her across the small table. It was as if he were repeating the words she'd used that day at the beach, the offer she'd made him so he'd come into the waves with her.

_You can always hold my hand if you need to feel steady. _

She set her own glass down and placed a hand on the table, though not directly in his. That would be too forward of her, and she didn't want him to think she wanted to be forward. "I just can't bear to think… After all she and Mr. Bates have been through, why _this_? It hardly seems fair, doesn't it?"

Oh, what he must have thought of her then!

She, Elsie Hughes, the Scottish Dragon (he'd never called her that, but she'd caught wind that one of the maids had dubbed her with the title after either the incident with Ethel or one of the incidents with Edna, or maybe all three, she wasn't sure), the housekeeper of Downton Abbey, the stern hand that ruled the female staff, nearly in tears over the unfairness that was life. And she hadn't even had any sherry yet!

No doubt Mr. Carson was shocked- scandalized, even- to see her facade crumble as it was now. Perhaps he'd seen parts of her vulnerable self poking through at times, such as when she'd had the cancer scare (she thanked God every day that it had been just a scare), when William had died, when Lady Sybil had died, when Anna struggled to free Mr. Bates, when Anna had been attacked by Mr. Green (_May he rot in Hell, _she thought, without remorse), and when the business with Inspector Vyner and Sergeant Willis took a darker turn, it seemed, with every hour. Perhaps he'd paid no mind to it, because she was a woman, wasn't she? And women were prone to these bouts of vulnerability.

"I'm sure it will sort itself out in the end," the butler said, taking her hand in his, gently, as if it were a living thing of its own that would be destroyed if he wasn't careful enough with it. "I can't make promises, but I can tell you that it will be alright… Somehow, it will be alright."

His gentleness surprised Elsie, and when she curled her fingers around his, she felt a pleasant warmth that was somewhat akin to the warmth that spread throughout her after a glass of sherry, yet not quite, rushed from their clasped hands to the rest of her body.

"I hope you're right," she said, her voice small, not the gentle firmness that he was used to, no doubt.

"Elsie Hughes, I know I'm right."

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**A/N: I hope you enjoyed reading this, and yes, there will be a Part Two, probably up really soon because this is making me unreasonably happy! **

**As usual, please read and review and a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I should get the award for same-night updates or something...Or not.**

**Anyways, here's Part Two, as promised.**

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This elicited a nervous, schoolgirl-ish laugh from the housekeeper. "You haven't called me that in years," she said, silently amazed at how he managed to pull her away from the melancholy that had taken her for the evening. "Thirty-four years, if anyone's counting."

"Thirty-five," he corrected, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips. "You were housekeeper a year before I was butler, remember?"

"To be honest, not really."

It had been so long ago that Elsie had just about forgotten, and it made her feel old just thinking about it. Had she and Mr. Carson really been that young once? Well, of course they had, that was a silly question to ask, but it did make one wonder, didn't it?

He laughed- a surprisingly jovial rumbling noise (Elsie never thought the two words could be paired together, yet there she was, doing just that!)- and before she knew it, he'd gotten her to her feet. He stood at at least a head taller than she, and he always had, her being shorter than even a majority of women her age, shorter than some of the maids, even, but the space between their heads was enough to close if she just rose on the balls of her feet.

"Do you remember, at least, when you were Elsie Hughes, and I was Charles Carson? None of this "Mrs. Hughes" or "Mr. Carson" nonsense?"

"Now there's something I never thought I'd hear you say," she said, faintly aware of her heart beating rapidly in her chest. Dear Lord, if her heart gave out now, she didn't know what she'd do.

"Well now you have, haven't you?"

God in Heaven, he was teasing her, wasn't he? What was he getting at? That was what Elsie wanted to know.

"Go on."

"You were a lovely young woman, a bit of a firebrand-"

"Mr. Carson, I don't think-"

"Oh you were though, won't you? You and Susan stirred up all sorts of mischief, you did. Sometimes I wonder if that's why Mrs. Hardings retired, to be rid of you two terrors."

Oh Lord, he remembered that?

Why did he remember something that had slipped from Elsie's memory long ago? Where was he going with this?

"I doubt it was because of us. You weren't any better, now were you?"

Elsie didn't know the answer to her own question- the Charles she knew was at least thirty years in the past, gone the moment a chance at being butler presented itself. Perhaps he'd been "a terror" and "a firebrand" himself, though that was hard to picture.

"Guilty as charged, Mrs. Hughes," he admitted with a blush (this had to be the first time Elsie was actually close enough to see him blush, it had to be). "Do you remember when Patrick and I asked to sit with you and Susan at church Christmas Eve?"

Now that she did remember. "Susan turned Patrick down outright, didn't she? Poor lad...I hope he was able to make something of himself. Susan too, though knowing her, she's probably...well I don't know where she'd be, seeing as I'm housekeeper here now."

"But you said yes, ever the lady, and you saved me the embarrassment of being turned down."

She crinkled her nose in laugher. "Oh stop that! Any lass would've been a fool to turn you down, Charles Carson."

"So you think Alice Neal a fool?"

"Perhaps, but that was when you were young. The whole affair with Joe Burns, that was when I was young. We didn't understand things then, now did we?"

"Do we understand them now?" he asked, ducking his head towards her just a little, so he didn't seem so intimidatingly tall. "Now that we've seen the world...together, I suppose, do you think we're wiser for it?"

"I'd like to think so."

He was going to kiss her, wasn't he?

That had to be what he was planning to do, it simply had to! Why else would he be holding her as close (Elsie could feel his hand hovering just above the small of her back, and her hand had slipped from his long ago without either of them realizing, it seemed), or speaking so fondly of their shared pasts, if he wasn't going to kiss her? She wasn't sure if she dreaded it or longed for it, but either way, there was no stopping it when it happened.

And it happened like that. No preamble (well, their recollections could be excused as preamble), no "Elsie Hughes I would very much like to kiss you," and definitely no warning from him to her at all. Elsie knew she wanted to be angry, but how can one be angry when something they've kept as one keeps a shameful secret comes to be? It's impossible, it is, to do such a thing, and that's why Charles would never hear an unkind word from her on the matter.

He pulled her closer, finally daring to touch her body, and she looped an arm, and then another arm, around his neck, rising on the balls of her feet to make up for the difference in height. They kissed each other with the passion and vigor of young lovers, teasing at the other's lips in an almost childlike manner, though she could feel his restraint as he no doubt could feel hers. Oh, but at least it was happening at last! At least she wouldn't have to keep this in her dreams anymore, or on the list of things she counted as guilty charges against her soul. No longer would she lust after Charles in the bed she'd learnt to accept as only ever being her own.

But this wasn't lust.

This was love in its purest form, love tempered by years of friendship and partnership into something so strong and pure, it had endured this long. This was more pure than Lady Mary's love for Mr. Matthew, than His Lordship's for Her Ladyship, than Mr. Branson for Lady Sybil, more pure, even, than Mr. Bates's love for Anna, which had, without question, been tested by time and faith and man enough to almost prove equal to what welled up between the butler and the housekeeper now.

"I love you," Mr. Carson murmured, breaking the kiss and folding Elsie into an embrace that was completely foreign to her- the embrace of a lover. Was that what they were now? Lovers? She liked the sound of that, to be honest, though she wanted to be his wife more than anything.

_One step at a time, _she chided herself, closing her eyes and letting a contented smile play across her lips, which still hummed even after they had left the butler's. "I love you too," she replied.

"We'll get through this together, don't you worry." He ran a careful hand over her hair, as hesitant as a young child petting a rabbit for the first time, as if a movement that was too quick might undo the carefully-pinned curls of her rapidly-greying hair. "Come what may, I will always be here."

"Mhmm… I'd like that Charles Carson, very much."

"Then that's how it'll be, Elsie Hughes, that's how it'll be."

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**A/N: Aren't they just adorable together? **

**Anyways, thank you very much for reading this and I hope you enjoyed it! It was definitely a pleasure to write, and maybe my ship will sail...What I would give to have someone to be the Mr. Carson to my Mrs. Hughes... Please read and review, and I'll be seeing y'all soon! **

**3 **


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